


Memories of Sand

by minazukihatta



Series: Desert Heat [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Blind Ignis, But magic and oracles are still a thing, Implied Child Soldier Noctis, M/M, No Crystal here, Omega Noctis, beta Ignis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16495976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minazukihatta/pseuds/minazukihatta
Summary: After the war with Niffleheim has ended, Ignis waits for Noctis to return.





	Memories of Sand

Ignis sits at the top of the stairs leading into the Citadel. It was hardly fitting for a man of his position, advisor to the King of Lucis and its heir. Ignis runs his hand across the length of his cane, the material smooth under his fingers.

 

The war ended. An odd enough phrase when Ignis had known only war all his life. When the news was announced to the newspapers, bold words declaring Niffleheim’s defeat, Insomnia had begun to celebrate. Laughter and music filled the streets, a stark contrast to its former sombre mood. Flowers were set on windowsills and banners hung from buildings. It wouldn’t be long until trains and carriers arrived, delivering soldiers home.

 

Delivering Noctis.

 

The prince had been praised in particular for his role in the war, infiltrating the Empire and killing the evil at its roots. He was a beacon of hope, an inspiration to all, the light that had brought the end to an never-ending darkness. A paragon of strength despite the traditional conventions of his dynamic.

 

Ignis would have been there on the battlefield, next to Noctis, had it not been for the sudden loss of his sight. Ignis could have learned to fight blind, but Noctis sent him away nevertheless to his father’s court to help the king wade through the country’s political matters and root out spies.

 

For the first time, Noctis had used his status as Ignis’ superior against him. Ignis left, anger burning at himself for being a burden and Noctis for crossing the line between them. That fire quieted over that. The resentment still simmered though, lingering beneath Ignis’ skin like a brand.  _Useless._

 

Ignis hears creaking behind him, the mechanical whir of King Regis’ leg brace apparent to him after months of walking alongside the man discussing national matters. Ignis turns his head in the direction of the sound and stands gingerly to his feet, bowing appropriately to his Majesty.

 

An amused huff comes from King Regis. “Easy, Ignis. No need to stand on ceremony.” A hand gingerly pinches Ignis’ sleeve, drawing him closer to the king and away from the flight of stairs. “I see you’re waiting for my son. You know you could be doing this inside the comfort of the Citadel.”

 

“Yes.” Ignis does realise that. “I just wanted to meet your son before he entered the Citadel.”

 

“You know,” Regis muses, “despite having your aid these past few months with national matters, I never thought of you as my advisor. You were always Noctis’.”

 

Ignis did belong to Noctis. For as much as he could, Ignis would strive to walk alongside Noctis, be it through a battlefield or a court. Noctis needn’t give much in return, perhaps a thank you here and a cup of coffee there. And Ignis was content with that, even if there was part of him that longed for more.

 

“I won’t deny that I am loyal to your son.”

 

A sigh, long and weary, comes from the king. “My son … is a very distant figure to me. In fact, I can only count the handful of times I’ve actually met him with these hands of mine. Instead of growing up in the Citadel as a prince should, he grew up on bases and battlefields like a soldier. I had to sacrifice morality for necessity when it became apparent that he shared his mother’s talent for violence.”

 

“Yes, his upbringing will make it difficult for this new phase of his life,” Ignis admits. “King Regis, your son is practised in the art of the sword and battle. Peace … is not going to be easy for him. In fact, it may even be more dangerous for him.”

 

From what Ignis had seen, Noctis had very few moments of peace, and in those moments, Noctis had seemed so empty. Eyes blank and unfocused as if unsure of what to do with himself. It would only last a few seconds until Noctis slinked away to the nearest horizontal surface and went to sleep.

 

“You’ll stay with him?” the king asks.

 

“Of course,” Ignis answers without hesitation. “I did just say I was loyal to him. Oh.” Ignis catches himself, fingers flying to his lips. “I did not mean to be rude, your Majesty. I was merely just emphasising my point.”

 

“I understand.”

 

The king then makes a surprised hum. The wind blows at them and, with it, carrying a familiar scent. Despite Ignis’ blander dynamic as a beta, he had spent enough time around that hot scent to know who it belonged to. It was as familiar as the flesh of his hands. Ignis turns slowly, away from the king. He hears a car engine humming and dying. Ignis carefully makes his way down, his cane marking his path.

 

Hands come around him, halfway down. The smell of baked goods, warm and crisp the only way they could be when made first thing in the morning, fills his nose. A figure melts against his chest, hair tucked beneath Ignis’ chin.

 

“Careful, Ignis,” Noctis _chides_ , as if Ignis hadn’t been doing that the majority of their time together. “These steps are shallow. You could fall.”

 

“I’d have you catch me, wouldn’t I?” Ignis throws back. Noctis huffs, holding Ignis close to him. Ignis’ own arms come up, wrapping around the prince.

 

Ignis is aware of how out of context this could be taken. The king was standing at the top of the steps with his own retinue, observing the scene before them. A omegan prince and his advisor acting in a way that their stations wouldn’t allow. But they were Ignis and Noctis before all of that--best friends and comrades in arms--and decorum be damned if it was going to take that history from them.

 

“I thought it’d never end,” Noctis murmurs. “For a moment, I thought I was going to die.”

 

Ignis tightens his grip on Noctis, an affirmation of the man’s presence, of life in his hands. “You’re here now.”

 

All that Ignis could focus on was the person in his arms, holding him back with equal intensity, gripping to an anchor after the end of war and chaos. Ignis had an idea what would happen after this. The chains of duty shackling the both of them, weapons put away in favour of words, having to familiarise themselves with an odd silence where bullet fire and screams would have been filling it.

 

Ignis pushed it all away in favour for this moment where desperation and longing collided. For now, Ignis would have this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a kudo or review below. Feel free to point out typos. It's 10:30 PM as I post this. I'm tired. I won't catch everything.


End file.
